


The Winter Willow

by SuperWhoLockian75



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperWhoLockian75/pseuds/SuperWhoLockian75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a drunken night in a bar with Sherlock Holmes, John's younger sister Faith finds herself with more than just a nice memory to look back on. 9 months later she decides to visit the father of her child on New Year's Eve, then all hell breaks lose when Faith goes into labor right in 221B. Now it's a matter of time before the child is born and Sherlock has to decide whether or not he wants to become a father, or leave Faith and her baby to fend for themselves.</p><p>This is a commission for a friend of mine staring her OC character Faith Watson, John's younger sister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Year's Eve, a Bar, and a Memory

* * *

            The night was cold and yet so full of warmth at the same time. It was New Year’s Eve in England and London was practically bursting with people waiting for the fireworks at the stroke of midnight. Big Ben would explode with color and everyone would cheer and embrace their “special someone”, everyone except for Faith. She was currently hanging out at her favorite pub with a couple girlfriends who she knew would be getting lucky later in the night. She, on the other hand, was being responsible sitting and sipping at her lemonade considering the almost-ready baby in her belly. And she had one person to thank for that baby.

            Sherlock Holmes.

            It had happened right in that bar 9 months ago. He had just finished a rather challenging case, so he told her, and was weirdly chipper about it. Her brother and Sherlock's friend, John Watson, had explained to her what he could of Sherlock’s fondness for crime and puzzles, and it was rather… odd. But he was odd, and watching him explain and deduct incredible things in front of her while having this beautiful gleam in his ice-blue eyes, you could say, is where Faith first grew fond of him. Sherlock was in no way ordinary, not by a long shot. From his tall, lean figure to his raven-colored hair, as well as his high cheekbones and strangely-shaped lips, he was a sight to behold. His feline eyes and long face only added to its oddness.

            Sherlock wasn’t really Faith’s type, but they both had too many drinks in them and the night was young. John had just left with a possible girlfriend and didn't necessarily realize he had left her alone with Sherlock, but that was A-OK by her. It gave them a chance to talk at least. And man, did he talk. Deducing everything he could around them at a million miles an hour while she could barely keep up. She didn’t, and still didn’t, quite understand how he could think like that with several glasses of wine in him. But she drew to him like a moth to a flame and, thinking back now sitting in that same pub, she couldn’t exactly say she completely regretted what came after the wine and deductions. Although the thought of how John would react to this did cross her mind a few times.

            Faith smiled and took another sip of her lemonade, hearing the count-down to midnight on the telly and, frankly, from all over the whole city. She was usually a social butterfly, going around to everyone to see how they were and what was new, but she wasn’t quite feeling up to it tonight, which her friends understood again considering her little bun-in-the-oven. Everyone in the bar cheered and shouted “Happy New Year!” once the countdown stopped and Big Ben burst with fireworks. Hugs and kisses were visible everywhere and even Faith couldn’t help but hug her friends with the energy in the room. She also couldn’t help but think of Sherlock, though, and whether or not he had someone to share the occasion with. Faith knew he and John shared a flat together, but that didn't necessarily mean they were together tonight. Maybe she could…

            “No, he’s probably busy.” Faith muttered to herself. Besides, she still hadn’t gotten over her anger at him for doing this to her in the first place. She glanced outside at the bust and slightly crowded streets, all the people looking at the fireworks and huddled together in the cold. Faith smiled and looked back at her friends, thinking differently about Sherlock.

            “Hey guys, I gotta go. There’s someone I need to see.” One of her friends groaned.

            “Aw Faith, you can’t leave now! The party’s about to start.” She glanced around and gave a cute guy a wink at the bar. Faith laughed.

            “Maybe for you girls, not so much me these days. I’ll call you later.” Faith said while exiting the pub. Her friends waved at her through the window and she waved back. Luckily she hadn't forgotten her brother's new address. She flagged down a cab and slid inside.

            “221b Baker Street please.” Faith told the cabbie. He put the car in gear and started down the road.

            It had been quite a while since Faith had seen Sherlock Holmes, and she thought it was about time they reconnected and, if she was lucky, perhaps restart the old flame that they once had. Besides, it was a new year, and anything was possible, even miracles.

* * *

 


	2. A Late Night In 221B

* * *

            The sound of Sherlock’s violin resonated throughout 221b as he played _Auld Lang Syne_ , the standard tune always heard after the stroke of midnight on New Year’s. John and Mrs. Hudson were sitting down enjoying some wine on account of the occasion as well. Once he’d finished, he gave a curt bow to an ever-applauding Mrs. Hudson while John brought the glasses and wine bottle back to the kitchen.

            “That was beautiful Sherlock!” she praised. “You’ve been practicing haven’t you?” the lady gave a smile which Sherlock returned.

            “Only the best for you, Mrs. Hudson, you know that.” Sherlock quipped and set his violin aside. She gave a chuckle at that.

            “Flattering me won’t make me forget about the bullet holes in my wall.” Mrs. Hudson came back with and caught Sherlock a bit off guard. John couldn’t help but laugh in the kitchen at her cleverness. "Well, I suppose I'd better turn in. I'll see you tomorrow boys." She stated and rose to leave. John appeared from the kitchen and gave her a hug.

            "Good night, we'll see you in the morning." John said and led her out.

            Sherlock was fixated looking out the window at the city below when John came back in. He was wearing his standard black suit and purple button down, but there was something off about his stature. John knew immediately who he was thinking of.

            "Thinking about Faith are we?" John casually asked. Sherlock immediately turned around and stared at John for a second.

            "What? Why would you think that? I thought we've been over the topic of how I feel about relationships. Besides, that was ages ago and a one-time occurrence as well as her being your sister... it wouldn't have worked out." Sherlock rambled out instantly going on the defensive position. "She meant nothing to me so you can get that idea—"

            "OK, OK!" John interrupted. "It was just a simple question. No need to get all testy about it. And I really wouldn't have minded all that much if you had a relationship with her you know." Sherlock turned back to the window and placed his hands behind his back. "Although, I'll never forget that slap she landed on you after she told you she was pregnant." He muttered with a slight grin. "At the time it did seem rather... _deserving._ You're lucky I was in the other room for most of that conversation, or else you wouldn't be alive right now."

            "Don't remind me." Sherlock nearly growled. He brought a hand up to touch his right cheek, but quickly whipped it back behind his back. He remembered that day all too well… 

* * *

            It was a couple days after the late night at the pub and Sherlock and John had just returned to the flat... to find Faith sitting cross-legged and cross-armed in Sherlock's chair. At first it took him a couple seconds to work out who she was and how she'd gotten in; at the same time John had asked those same questions. Faith stood up, walked over to Sherlock, and with a straight face told him,

            "I'm pregnant, Sherlock, and I'm pretty sure you're to blame." And before he could open his mouth to speak, _WHAM!,_ right across the face she slapped him. John immediately reacted and helped Sherlock back up, checking his face for any (permanent) damage.

            "Faith! What the hell was that for?" John questioned a bit startled. "And did you just say what I thought you just said?"

            "Yes you heard right John; your consulting detective here got me pregnant. I think that's reason enough to hit him." Faith retorted, crossing her arms again. John couldn't exactly disagree with her on the matter.

            "So that's what you two were up to when I left you guys at the pub." John suddenly realized, then turned a bit cross. "Sherlock, you... oh, God! She's my sister!"

            "I realize that John, now, I need to speak to Faith alone please." Sherlock said rubbing his slowly-turning-red cheek. John looked at the both of them, then focused on Sherlock.

            "I'm not sure I _should_ leave you alone with her." John said and fixed him with a glare.

            "Oh for heaven's sake John, I'm not gonna kill him and he's most _certainly_ not gonna do anything to me... I won't let him. So if you wouldn't mind..." Faith trailed off and looked toward the stairs that led upstairs. John looked at her and sighed.

            "Oh, alright. But please, keep the blood off the furniture or Mrs. Hudson will have your heads." John turned to leave, but added while looking at Sherlock, "And keep your hands to yourself, Sherlock, or I'll have yours." And with that he left and went up the stairs. They stood there for a few moments before anyone spoke, mainly so Sherlock could get his bearings again and think about what John had just said. He had never heard John speak to him like that before, and it was rather alarming and yet very admirable of him at the same time. Sherlock found himself liking that side of John a bit more now. During this time he managed to properly notice Faith; she had light brown hair much like John's with the exception of her brown eyes and 5'8" height. She was also a bit tan considering it was early May and he knew she liked to be outdoors.

            "Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Faith was the first to speak. Sherlock walked past her and shrugged off his long coat onto his chair.

            "You do realize pregnancy works both ways, so it isn't just my fault. So coming in here emotionally compromised like that was quite a stupid move, even for you." Sherlock stated and glanced back at her. She frowned and said,

            "Perhaps, but if I'm not mistaken, men are the ones who wear the condoms." Faith replied gaining a hard look from Sherlock. She suddenly sighed and plopped into her brother's armchair, looking a bit tired. “Look, I didn’t come here to argue about whose fault it was or to point fingers. I just want to know if you… well, if we could… I don’t know, make this work? This baby is as much yours as is mine, and we can—”

            “What? Raise it together like a normal family?” Sherlock interrupted, speaking softly. He hadn’t looked at Faith, almost as if he couldn’t bear to. “I’m not that kind of man, Faith. I can’t… commit to something like that.” He sat down in his chair and looked at Faith with a sad face. “You’re probably better off…”

            “Alone?” Faith finished for him. Sherlock looked away. She couldn’t believe what he was telling her, and yet it made perfect sense at the same time. “You don’t know unless you try, now do you?” She said with a hint of anger. He looked at her and the smallest of smiles appeared on his face.

            “Actually, I know all too well.” Sherlock muttered and looked at Faith. “Besides, I don’t think John would be too pleased with me acting as the father of his nephew… if you decide to keep it, that is.” His face had turned slightly soft as he said this, but quickly turned hard as the feeling faded. “You can do what you like with the child, whether you keep it or abort it, it doesn’t matter to me. But I can’t be what you want, I’m not father material. Like I said, you both would be better off anyway.” And with that he stood and returned to his post by the window. Faith stood as well and joined him.

            “I can’t believe you would just… your own child and you say you don’t care!—no. You know what? Fine. Be that way. And you know I can’t abort, not like I’d ever want to, because I’m a mid-wife; have been for years and occasionally alongside John, remember?” Faith reminded him angrily, much like her older brother she couldn’t help but think. She paused, waiting for a sign from him, but he just stood there ridged as a statue. How typical. “Well, I guess you’ve made it quite clear as to your decision about this. And there’s no way I can convince you otherwise, hmm?” Faith tried, glancing at Sherlock. He simply shook his head and she sighed. “Very well.” Faith turned and grabbed her jacket off John’s chair and made to leave, but halted at the door.

            “Sherlock, you’re not the bad guy and you do deserve to be happy… regardless of what you may think.” She took one last look at Sherlock, for a sign that he cared or felt anything for the life within her, but there was nothing that she could see. Faith left and made her way downstairs and onto the streets to hail a cab. Sherlock could see her from the flat’s window and in that moment John came back downstairs and into the room.

            “Where did she go?” John asked and looked around, then back at Sherlock suddenly realizing. “Sherlock, did you say something to her? What happened?” But he didn’t respond, just kept his eyes on Faith as she entered the cab and drove off. That would be the last time Sherlock would see her until New Year’s. He subconsciously wiped away a tear that had begun to roll down his sharpened cheekbone as he watched her go.

* * *

 


	3. A Holiday Visit

* * *

            The sight of a cab pulling up to Baker Street brought Sherlock back from his memories and he quickly recognized the figure as she stepped out; large belly and all.

            “Faith…?” Sherlock muttered to himself.

            “What was that?” John asked just as footsteps sounded from the hall and grew louder as she ascended towards the room. Sherlock turned around just in time to see Faith Watson standing in the doorway and he couldn’t remember a time when she looked more beautiful. Her light brown hair was wavy around her head and she was wearing a black winter coat that suited her now-larger figure rather well. Dark jeans and boots completed the look along with her slightly reddened cheeks and nose from the cold.

            But out of everything of her appearance, the one thing Sherlock noticed the most were her eyes. They contrasted nicely against her no longer tanned skin and they seemed to have a new glow to them that wasn’t there the last time he saw her.

            "Hello Sherlock... John." Faith greeted them and smiled.

            "Faith, what are you doing here?" John asked a bit surprised and went to hug his sister. She gratefully accepted it and returned the hug.

            "It's nice to see you too John." Faith said with a bit of a laugh. They let each other go and John really looked at her.

            "Right, sorry, just a bit surprised I suppose. But look at you! You must be, what? 8... 9 months along?"

            "9 months yeah, any day now she'll pop out." Faith reassured and placed a hand on her stomach absentmindedly.

            "That's wonderful, you thought of a name yet?" John asked. Faith glanced at Sherlock for a second only to see him standing over by the fireplace staring into its flames, not seeming to care much for their conversation. She returned her attention back to John.

            "Um, not yet no. I think I'll know it when I see her." Faith walked over and gently sat herself down in Sherlock's leather chair. "I just popped by to see how you two were doing and to say Happy New Year." She half lied. Again she glanced beside her at Sherlock to see if he had a reaction, but he had only moved a few inches just so he could see Faith and John out of the corner of his eyes. John had sat himself down in his own armchair and continued the conversation.

            "Oh, well that's nice of you. But I thought you'd rather be hanging out with your friends at this time of the year."

            "Well, I thought maybe you and Sherlock would like some company," She leaned in a bit closer towards John, as best she could, and spoke a bit more quietly to him. "I know he can sometimes keep you pent up in here with him, so—”

            "I'm not Sherlock's pet if that's what you're referring to." John cut in and gained a small grin from Sherlock, which of course he never sees. Faith laughed and shook her head.

            "No! Of course not, I just meant that—”

            “I think John knew what you meant." Sherlock cut in suddenly, which startled Faith a bit. "As did I. John, why don't you make some tea? Something calming preferably." Sherlock turned and looked at John who gave him a puzzled, but suspicious, look.

            "At 12:15 in the morning?"

            "Yes, there's never a bad time for tea John." Sherlock shown one of his fake smiles and all of a sudden had a perkier attitude, which John knew all too well as a mask. He reluctantly got up and headed to the kitchen to start the tea kettle, sliding closed the stained-glass doors behind him, but leaving them open a crack.

            "I really wish you two would stop interrupting me mid-sentence. It gets old after a while." Faith said to disrupt the silence. Sherlock stood looming beside her suddenly, placing one hand on the back of the chair and the other on the arm. He spoke moderately quiet, but with a fierceness as well. He was close enough where Faith could tell his pupils were dilated, more so than they should've been in the darkened room.

            "What are you really doing here Faith? I know you aren't here to just chat. And for Godsake don't ask me how I know that." Sherlock questioned. Faith was a bit taken back considering his closeness and the seriousness of his tone. She kept her face very straight and answered him.

            "I don't know what you're talking about Sherlock, I just came to see if you wanted company during the holiday and John is my brother so I wanted to see him too." Faith got her face close to Sherlock's so their noses were almost touching. "Everything isn't always about you." She said just as fierce. In that moment John came back into the room with tea on a tray and Sherlock quickly readjusted himself; hands behind his back and taking a step away from Faith.

            "So I've only got chamomile tea, not sure if you... is everything alright?" John paused coming into the sitting room, noticing Faith and Sherlock's awkward body language. Faith looked at Sherlock then at John.

            "What? Yes, of course. We were just, um, talking about..." Faith looked at Sherlock for help.

            "Ah yes, I was telling Faith about how long Big Ben has been shooting fireworks on the stroke of midnight every New Year's. It's, uh, kind of interesting." Sherlock answered quickly.

            "Yes exactly." Faith concurred and they both looked at John a bit oddly.

            "Right, OK then. Well, here's the tea you so eagerly asked for." John said and placed the tray on the little table by his chair.

            "Good to know I can always rely on you for tea." Sherlock said and smiled, a small giggle escaped from Faith which she quickly suppressed seeing the look on her brother's face.

            "How do you like yours Faith?" John asked, ignoring Sherlock's comment.

            "A bit of milk and sugar please."

            "Oh, I left the milk in the kitchen, hold on." John quickly went to the fridge to locate the milk when Sherlock cut in.

            "I wouldn't if I were you, I don't think you could technically call it milk anymore... or a liquid to be more specific." Sherlock called after him.

            "You experimented with the whole carton of milk? What have I told you, if you're going to do an experiment on something—”

            "—take a portion of the object, not the entirety of it yes I know. I needed the full carton for the experiment I'm running."

            "Why on Earth would you need a full carton of milk for an experiment?"

            "Do you want those reasons alphabetically or numerically?"

            "Boys, boys! You're both pretty," Faith abruptly cut in. "John it's fine, I can do without milk."

            "You sure?" John asked coming back to the sitting room.

            "Yes, now please hand me my cup if you'd be so kind." Faith said with a bit of a smile. John gave her her sugared tea and prepared his own.

            "... pretty?" Sherlock thought out loud and looked slightly offended. Faith looked him up and down and tilted her head slightly.

            "Yeah I think so, although I wouldn't go bragging about. You might attract some 'unwanted' attention, especially at bars." John stifled a laugh.

            "Him? Being flirted on by other women? Now that is something I would get on film and enjoy for a very long time."

            "I didn't mean just women." Faith said and took a sip of her tea. John practically choked on his.

            "Wha—what?” John sputtered out. Faith started laughing and set her tea down.

            "I was only kidding John... sort of." She suddenly grabbed her stomach and grunted, then smiled. 

            "What is it Faith? What's wrong?" John asked, immediately coming to her aid. 

            "The baby... I think she kicked." Faith said a bit excited. "Here, you have to feel." Before John could react, Faith reached out and grabbed his hand and placed it on her stomach. 

            "Faith this isn't—”

            "Shhhh! Just wait." Faith hushed him and it only took a couple seconds before the baby moved again. John smiled lightly.

            "Wow... that's, interesting." He said and moved his hand slightly. Sherlock scoffed in the background. Faith stood up and turned to face him. 

            "Sorry, didn't quite catch that." She said sternly. "Here," Faith grabbed his hand before he could step away and placed it on her stomach. "She's your baby too." Sherlock made a sound similar to a groan deep in his throat. 

            "Faith let go. I don't want to feel—”

            "Just shut up and wait." She demanded. Again it was a mere few seconds before the baby kicked again, and this time it was rather hard. Faith and Sherlock both felt it, and something on his face changed. He had a look of shock and a sudden fondness on his face that Faith had never seen before. Sherlock slowly smiled and looked at Faith who smiled back. She spoke softly to him. 

            "Perhaps now you'll change your mind about wanting her. You see, it isn't just a bundle of cells that happen to share your DNA, she has a life and, if you want, you can take part in shaping it as she grows." Faith had her hand over Sherlock's. "Please, Sherlock." 

            "I... I don't... think I can." Sherlock managed above a whisper, his eyes now locked on Faith's belly. "I'm not what she deserves." 

            "Bullocks!" John suddenly cut in. "You're the best man I've ever known, and a genius. The things you'll be able to teach that child will be limitless, and I'll be damned if I let you abandon my sister again, especially now." John stated now standing by Faith. "Besides, you won't be alone. I know a thing or two about babies." He said with a smile. Sherlock looked between the two of them, unsure of what to say. 

            Before he had the chance to speak, Faith cried out suddenly and clutched her stomach, her face scrunched up in pain.

            "What is it Faith?" John asked worried.

            "I... think my water just broke." She said and looked at John with fearful eyes. John and Sherlock shared worried glances before John ushered her down the hall and into Sherlock's room, much against Sherlock's protests.

            Once John got her settled in Sherlock's bed, he stepped out into the hall for a moment to talk to Sherlock.

            "She's right, her water's broken, the baby's on its way."

* * *

 


	4. "And So It Begins..."

* * *

            The clock tolled 3am in the sitting room at the flat where a busy John and Mrs. Hudson were tending to the needs of Faith. Sherlock, on the other hand, was hanging around awkwardly and doing as John or Mrs. Hudson asked of him; from getting fresh towels to boiling water on the stove. At the current moment he was trying like mad to scrub out a slight stain on the carpet that Faith's "water" had so kindly left there a couple hours ago. Mrs. Hudson had instructed him on how to do so and right now he was regretting listening.

            "That's it, in circles and in small strokes." Mrs. Hudson lectured to him. Sherlock, on hands and knees, abruptly stopped his work and sighed.

            "Yes Mrs. Hudson I heard you the first few times you reminded me. Please, attend to Faith; I've got this under control." He managed a tired smile, which she returned, then headed down to his bedroom where Faith lay under the sheets well under way labor.

            John was at her side from the moment her water broke and his fatigue was starting to show. He had unbuttoned his disheveled shirt several buttons and was now pacing around the room while his sister dozed. She'd been in labor for a couple hours now and John suspected she would continue to be for a several more hours, perhaps even the rest of the day. That was the one thing that worried him; Faith had refused to go to hospital and now John had the sneaking suspicion that there was something majorly wrong with the way this baby was looking to come out. Usually births that took this long meant that the baby was positioned wrong, such as the head wouldn't be the first to come out, instead the shoulder or even the feet would. But without an ultrasound machine there was no way for him to tell, he'd just have to wing it.

            Mrs. Hudson walked in with a couple more clean towels and a bowl of hot water, then looked between Faith and John. She noticed the worried look on John's face, set down the items in her hands, and came over to give him a reassuring hug; which John gratefully accepted.

            "It's gonna be alright dear," Mrs. Hudson said and let go of John. "We're all a little bit worried, but if she's anything like her older brother then she'll pull through like a champ." Mrs. Hudson smiled and John couldn't help but smile back.

            "Thanks Mrs. Hudson... you know, you didn't have to come up here and help us. For someone who says they're not our house keeper—"

            "Oh shut up and be thankful I am here you git." Mrs. Hudson cut in with a wave of her hand, and they both lightly laughed, careful not to wake Faith.

            Sherlock, down the hall, could hear the two in his bedroom for he was forever the observant one, and he found himself feeling slightly... out of place. Here John and Mrs. Hudson were, laughing at some joke between the two of them while attending to Faith in  _his_  bedroom, and he didn't have the slightest idea on what to do about any of it. Not that he had a problem with them being happy and laughing, but the fact that he was unsure about the whole situation was, for lack of a better word, terrifying. He had finished with the carpet, as best could be expected with his limited cleaning skills, and was sitting in his chair waiting for the next string of orders to come from either John or Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed deeply, not knowing what to do and being afraid of doing the wrong thing was absolutely frustrating.

            Just when Sherlock thought he'd explode from neutral boredom, John called him from the bedroom asking for his help. Sherlock practically launched out of the chair and strode to the bedroom, thankful for something to do finally.

            "You called John?" Sherlock questioned. John was checking Faith's pulse and had pushed back the sheets off of her legs, Sherlock tried his best not to look at them.

            "Yes, I need you to help Mrs. Hudson with the towels, we're running out and they need to be washed." John stated and didn't look up.

If Sherlock were a balloon, he would've deflated.

            "That's it. Nothing else?" Sherlock asked hopefully.

            "Nope, that's it for the current moment, sorry." Sherlock made a very audible groan deep in his throat. He picked up a basket of dirty towels and all but stomped out of the room. John looked up and at Mrs. Hudson who simply shrugged.

            "I dunno dear, I guess washing clothes are too boring for His Majesty." She said and began to follow him. John nodded in agreement.

            "Yes they are!" Sherlock yelled from the sitting room and headed downstairs to Mrs. Hudson's flat where the washer and dryer were located.

            Sherlock, now downstairs beside the washer and dryer, dropped the basket on the floor with a loud _THUD_ and crossed his arms. He leaned against the washer waiting for Mrs. Hudson to come down and scold him on how towels require bleach and not just detergent or that darks are the ones that don’t need bleach after that one time he accidentally forgot and had to throw away one of his favorite pairs of pants. Something like that or all of the above. He still wasn't quite sure on how to feel about all of this yet; Faith having his baby, John and Mrs. Hudson helping out while he hung around like a useless mop... the one thing he was glad for was that his brother Mycroft hadn't been alerted to all of this yet. Sherlock could only imagine what he would have to say on the matter. Mrs. Hudson appeared from the doorway and Sherlock looked down and away, knowing what she was going to say.

            "I know what you're thinking dear, and I'm here to tell you that you shouldn't be thinking it." Mrs. Hudson said and stood by him, her hand on the washer and the other on her hip. "Now, help with the washing would you? Help get your mind of things, at least for a little while." She smiled and went to open the door on the washer, but Sherlock got to it first.

            "Why not? Although, my mind hardly ever 'gets off of things', but I appreciate the advice." He smiled back, slightly, and grabbed some towels and threw them in, Mrs. Hudson following his lead. After that task was done, Sherlock put the detergent in and went to start the machine when Mrs. Hudson stopped him.

            "Forgetting something dear?" She asked and went to go upstairs. Sherlock thought for a second and scanned around the washer supplies, looking for—

            "Bleach!" He exclaimed suddenly.

            "You're a genius, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson called from the stairs, with a hint of sarcasm and amusement. Sherlock was about to form a witty comeback when he thought better of it, oddly. He grabbed the bleach, poured some in, and all but slammed the cover shut as he started the machine. As he went to go upstairs he heard John exclaim something he couldn't make out and frantic footsteps. Sherlock bounded up the stairs and into the flat, then down the hall and into his room.

            He had never seen so much blood in his life, and that was the last thing he remembered before stars covered his eyes. Then the blackness hit him.

* * *

 


	5. The Squeamish Detective

* * *

            “Sherlock!” John had yelled for his friend to come and help him since Faith all of a sudden started hemorrhaging. What he didn’t expect was for him to faint at the sight of all the blood covering the bed and his hands; John had been sure Sherlock wasn’t that squeamish, but this was the apparent time to be proven wrong.

            “Unbelievable—Mrs. Hudson could you see if he’s OK please?” John asked her incredibly annoyed. She knelt down beside Sherlock and checked his pulse and pupils, as she had seen John do numerous times, and concluded that he was indeed alive.

            “He’ll have a bloody headache though when he wakes up.” Mrs. Hudson stated and John had to agree with her. Faith was semi-conscious at this point, mostly due to the sudden loss of blood in a painful manner, and looked over at Sherlock sprawled on the floor and giggled.

            “I never knew he was such a… baby around blood.” Faith slightly panted out, light-headed and exhausted from her current ordeal.

            “Me either, you should see half the things he messes around with in his experiments. You never would’ve guessed.” John said and smiled. Mrs. Hudson had started lightly shaking Sherlock to see if that would wake him up, but there was no luck in it.

            “Oh, John he won’t wake up. Have you got anythin’ for it?” Mrs. Hudson asked, but he was busy attending to the mysterious bleed coming from somewhere in his sister. She turned back to Sherlock and did the only thing she could think of to wake up an unconscious man.

            Mrs. Hudson slapped him.

            Sherlock woke up with a start and immediately brought a hand to his cheek to rub it with a look of astonishment on his face.

            “What the bloody hell was that for?!” Sherlock demanded and started to sit up.

            “I’m sorry dear; I wasn’t sure what else to do. Besides, it was quite shameful of you the way you fainted like that at just a little blood. Think of it as karma.” She patted him on the leg and stood up to head back over to John. Sherlock was still sitting on the floor, slightly stunned and still rubbing his now-reddened cheek.

            “If you’re down having a lie down I’d like your help Sherlock, before my sister bleeds out all over the place.” John said and offered him a hand up. Sherlock took it and stood up; looking at the crimson massacre all over what used to be his clean bed. He sighed and looked at John.

            “What do you need me to do?”

            “Well, you can start by getting me clean gloves and calling 999—”

            “No!” Faith suddenly exclaimed. “You can’t! I… can’t go to hospital.”

            “Faith don’t be ridiculous! If I can’t stop your bleeding you’re going to die and there’s not much I can do for you here at the flat.” John stated trying to put some sense into his sister.

            “I have faith in you John, if anyone should it’s me.” Faith quietly said and grinned. John and Sherlock shared a look for a few seconds and Sherlock could tell that John wasn’t going to give up without a fight. He took John’s arm and pulled him to the side, speaking softly and fiercely to him.

            “You can’t be serious, you’re going to have her stay here when you know very well there’s a 10% chance she’ll live?”

            “Actually no, _you_ know there’s a 10% chance, I know there’s a slim chance she’ll make it; mister Mathematician. And I haven’t got much of a choice; she’s not in a stable condition to move. If I tried moving her now, well… I don’t think she’d make it to the hospital. Let’s put it that way.” John looked away and at his sister. Sherlock knew he couldn’t let it end this way; he couldn’t let John down by losing his sister _and_ the baby.

            “She needs surgery doesn’t she?” Sherlock asked; his face as sympathetic as he could manage it. John sighed.

            “Yeah, she does. I don’t have the equipment for it… unless you’ve got something hanging around that I don’t know about; which is very possible.”

            “Well, what exactly do you need?” Sherlock asked.

            “For starters; disinfectant, scalpels, hopefully some anesthetic, a suture—”

            “Alright, alright! I get it, a lot of stuff… well I’ve definitely got scalpels and sutures, but I’m not sure about anesthet—”

            “Oh I’ve got some of that.” Mrs. Hudson cut in suddenly, coming back into the room. “Got a jar of it down in my cupboards.” John and Sherlock both looked at her, then at each other, then back at Mrs. Hudson before saying in unison,

            “You _what_?” They asked incredulously. Mrs. Hudson laughed and crossed her arms.

            “Look you two, with the pair of you always going off and getting yourselves beat up, I thought it would be a good idea to get something to take the edge off in case either of you were so out of it I would have to take on the job of fixing you up myself. I’ve got a bunch of other stuff as well if you wanna take a look, I’ll watch Faith here for you and holler down if anything gets too bad.”

            “Mrs. Hudson, I’m sorry I ever doubted you!” John said in excitement and kissed her on the check, then headed out of the room. Sherlock made to go after him, but paused for a moment in the doorway and looked back at Faith. He was feeling something he couldn’t quite distinguish, was it… guilt? Fear? Or maybe even… no. He dare not say it, not even in his mind.

            “You going with him dear?” Mrs. Hudson asked, pulling him back out of his thoughts.

            “Uh, yeah, sorry. Thank you Mrs. Hudson; you really are a life saver.” Sherlock said and smiled, then headed out of the room and down to her apartment where John was locating the anesthetic in her cupboards as well as the disinfectant and other medical supplies he would need.

            “I can’t believe she had all this stuff all this time. Incredible!”

            “Indeed, there certainly is a lot to choose from. Perhaps we don’t know as much about our dear landlady as she leads on.” Sherlock shared a look with John as they grabbed the rest of the supplies and began to head back up to the flat.

* * *

 


	6. A Means to An End

* * *

            It was close to around noon now on New Year’s Day in the busy flat. The curtains had been closed and slivers of sunlight were sneaking in through the gap between them where they didn’t quite close all the way, casting odd shadows across all the fixtures, walls, and floor. John had been working on Faith for several hours and had finally sutured back together the tear that had caused the bleed in her vagina around 9am. At this point it was just a waiting game before he dared go any further; she had to recover at least a little bit before he tried a C-section or even a normal birth. John was currently dozing off in his chair while Sherlock tidied up a bit around the flat. Mrs. Hudson had gone down to her flat as well for a bit of rest before the next escapade of events occurred. Sherlock hadn’t actually slept in well over 24hrs at this point and for once in his adult life he was beginning to feel the effects.

            He was currently in the kitchen washing some dishes from their breakfast earlier when one slipped out of his hand and smashed to pieces on the tiled floor. The sound immediately alerted John and he woke with a start, frantically looking around until he spotted the wreckage in the kitchen.

            “You OK Sherlock?” He asked slightly groggy and with squinted eyes. Sherlock instantly turned away from John so his back was facing him and looked at his hands. They were shaking and he was finding it hard to focus on them.

            “Just fine John, go back to sleep. You’re going to need it.” Sherlock responded. John just shrugged and settled back into his chair and was soon back off to sleep. Once hearing soft snoring coming from John, Sherlock turned back around to make sure his friend was really asleep. Satisfied he was, Sherlock sunk to the ground and leaned his head back against the cabinets below the sink and closed his eyes. The world around him seemed to be swimming suddenly and it was hard not to drown in the whirlpool. He quickly opened his eyes and concluded that keeping them closed was far more dangerous than having them open. Sherlock slowly surveyed the room and saw the plate pieces still littering the ground and sighed. Slowly but surely he stood back up, aided by the counter, and grabbed the dust pan and broom from one of the cabinets to clean up the shards.

            The sound of Mrs. Hudson coming up the steps made Sherlock look up through the doorway at her. He was pretty sure he looked like the walking dead at this point, but that didn’t matter. She immediately noticed his appearance and came over to take the dust pan and broom out of his hands, seeing the mess behind him.

            “I’ll take care of that dear, why don’t you have a bit of a lie down?” Mrs. Hudson asked quietly and kindly, like she usually does when trying to get Sherlock out of soon-to-be bad situations. She slowly slipped the items out of his hands like a police officer does with a gun from a distraught criminal when they try to talk them out of doing something they’ll regret. He didn’t seem to notice and unconsciously nodded, then slowly walked to the sitting room where he heavily sat down in his leather chair; tilting his head back onto the top of the chair then closed his eyes. Mrs. Hudson worried about him something terrible sometimes, but knew he’d come out alright. Sherlock always did.

            She got to work cleaning up the shards from the floor when Faith faintly called out for her brother in the other room. Mrs. Hudson immediately got up and went over to John’s sleeping figure in his armchair.

            “John… John! Wake up dear your sister needs you.” She spoke quietly to him and shook his shoulder to try and wake him. He stirred slightly and his eyes slowly opened.

            “Hmmm… wha—what is it?” John asked sleepily and rubbed his eyes.

            “Faith dear, she’s calling for you.” John looked at her for a second or two before nearly falling on his face from trying to get up and out of the chair too quickly. He headed down the hall and into Sherlock’s bedroom where Faith was resting in his bed.

            “You rang?” John asked with a small smile then approached the bed to check on her stats. He gently grabbed her wrist and checked his watch to measure her pulse then placed the back of his hand on her forehead to check her temperature. Everything seemed normal except her forehead was a bit warm, but that was to be expected after the procedure she’d just undergone.

            “Indeed I did. I was wondering if you could tell me, kind sir, why my crotch hurts more now than it did before. And don’t say it’s because I’m in labor, I know what that feels like in comparison.” Faith said in her typical witty nature and they both couldn’t help but smile. John sat down on the bed facing her and placed his hand on hers.

            “Well, I managed to stop the bleeding, which was coming from a tear in your… um, _ya know_ , and I was waiting for you to wake up before going any further with any procedures.”

            “I see,” Faith said realizing the situation. “Is the baby OK? This didn’t harm her did it?” She asked suddenly desperate and John shook his head.

            “I don’t believe so, no. But then again without the proper equipment—”

            “I know, I know… but you’ve done a fine job so far. That counts for something.” Faith said reassuringly and took his hand. “I couldn’t ask for a better brother, John. Thank you.” John was a bit baffled at this, considering she’d never been this nice to him before, not that she was ever incredibly mean to him, but one could say tough love ran in the family. He smiled and looked away, not quite sure of what to say, but when he looked back he didn’t have to say anything. Faith had gone incredibly pale and her face was now twisted up in pain; the most likely cause being the labor had increased and the baby was due within the hour. John quickly went to work; pulling back the sheets, telling his sister it was going to be alright, and, more importantly, calling Mrs. Hudson from the kitchen to come and help.

            Sherlock had only dozed off for a few minutes, but when he woke with a start it had seemed like a lifetime. Mrs. Hudson was dashing off to his bedroom and loud, pained noises were coming from it. He could only conclude they were coming from Faith, judging from the current and past predicaments plus the higher-pitched voice and the—

            “Sherlock get in here!” John’s voice suddenly came, cutting through his thoughts. He immediately found himself lifting up and out of the chair and practically stumbling to his room; his nap hadn’t nearly been long enough to recharge and he was therefore finding it hard to use his motor functions properly. Sherlock stopped and leaned on the doorway, taking in the state of his room.

            Mrs. Hudson must’ve at some point changed the bloodied sheets and now clean ones adorned the bed and covered Faith modestly. Both John and Mrs. Hudson were wearing surgical-type masks covering their nose and mouth as well as latex gloves protecting their hands. Faith was propped up against the head board with some pillows as support behind her and Mrs. Hudson was holding her hand trying to comfort her as well as telling her to push. John, of course, was at the foot of the bed preparing his sister for the inevitable. He looked up and saw Sherlock standing awkwardly at the door and gestured for him to come forward. Reluctantly he did.

            “You called?” Sherlock said a bit quietly and timidly to his surprise.

            “Yep, put a mask and a pair of gloves on. I need your help.” Sherlock looked around then, again trying _not_ to look at Faith’s legs and what have you, and looked back at John.

            “Are you sure? You seem to have it handled.” He tried inching away a bit, but John grabbed hold of his arm and looked him dead in the eye.

            “Stop acting like a scared rabbit, man up, and help me would you? What is up with you anyway? Ever since this whole thing started you’ve been avoiding me, you’ve been avoiding her, and you’ve been acting like none of this matters to you. Well dammit Sherlock, it matters to me! So please, for God’s sake, imagine it’s some sort of experiment or an autopsy, _something_ if it’ll help you help me. Because right now I need you to focus and to know that you’re with me.” John paused and let go of Sherlock’s arm, resolving himself slightly. “Well? Are you?” Sherlock, for the second time in his life, had absolutely no idea what to say. So he picked up a mask and pair of gloves from the nearby table and held them in his hands for a moment, then looked back at John.

            “Always, John. I’ve always been with you, it’s just… _this_ , all of this. It’s not…” Sherlock was finding it increasingly difficult to try and explain himself; his mind just wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ allow them to come out.

            “Look, it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is you can tell me all about it when this is all over. Right now I need to teach you how to deliver a baby, cause guess what? You’re going to.” John smiled smugly and Sherlock could feel his face turn a shade whiter.

            “…what?” Sherlock asked after a second and John couldn’t help but laugh.

            “It’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’ll be behind you all the way, I just figured the father would want to deliver his child.” And with that John pulled his mask back up and went back to Faith while Sherlock quickly put on his mask and gloves to match, joining him at the end of the bed. Faith’s legs were pulled up revealing everything they needed, not necessarily wanted, to see and Sherlock found himself looking away every few seconds. It appeared this was going to happen whether he liked it or not.

* * *

 


	7. Miracles Do Happen

* * *

            A little over 2hrs later, at 2:45pm, a little baby girl was born in the flat 221B on Baker Street. Faith was currently relaxing in Sherlock’s bed, holding the little child in her arms and looking at her tenderly. She had just stopped crying a few minutes ago and everyone was incredibly grateful for it. Mrs. Hudson was finishing tidying up a few things around the flat while John was in the room with his sister making sure everything that needed to be taken care of was. Sherlock, on the other hand, was sitting in his leather chair in the sitting room in his typical thinking position; legs crossed and hands folded as if in prayer under his chin. There were definitely things that needed to be addressed now that there just wasn’t time for before.

            The baby girl, who still needed to be named, wasn’t by any means easy to bring into this world and during the procedure Sherlock had doubted for a moment the survival of the child. But, as resilient and determined as her father, she came through in the end and Sherlock even got to cut the umbilical cord as John held her in front of him. It was one thing to think of an unborn child as nothing important because you couldn’t see it or feel it alive in your arms, but once Sherlock held his daughter for the first time he knew he’d been so very wrong. He’d mentally slapped himself in the face for even thinking about telling Faith all those months ago to abort the child. And as he held the baby girl in his arms and looked at Faith, he knew that he did want to be a part of his daughter’s life; that there was no way he could just abandon this little creature and leave her with one parent.

            That was the feeling he was terrified of the most. Sherlock had been struggling to find the right word for it ever since Faith came to the flat the day before, and now he’d finally found it; love. He loved Faith, and their little girl, and he had no idea what to do about it. This was something Sherlock had almost never felt before, almost. He was pretty sure he felt a certain amount of it towards his brother Mycroft and John and even Mrs. Hudson, but that amount was nothing compared to the amount he had for Faith. It was quite mortifying and yet magnificent at the same time, which is why Sherlock had always stayed away from it; far too confusing and dangerous to handle, Irene Adler had proved so quite some time ago. But this was different, this was his child and Faith her mother, and there was one thing he knew he could do to make things right.

            Sherlock blinked for the first time in several minutes and rubbed his eyes to cease the now slight burning sensation he felt from them. After blinking a couple more times, he scanned around the flat and saw Mrs. Hudson on the telephone speaking in a hushed tone. Standing up and stretching his long legs, Sherlock went to the kitchen and stood a couple feet behind her.

            “Who’re you talking to Mrs. Hudson?” He asked with a much softer tone than he expected. The lack of sleep was affecting more than his energy levels at this point, now it was coming down to his emotions which he was not too pleased about. Mrs. Hudson quickly turned around and nearly dropped the phone at her surprise.

            “I’ll talk to you later dear.” She said to the person on the line and promptly hung up. “No one Sherlock, just checking on a couple personal things is all.” She was slightly fidgety and wasn’t looking directly at Sherlock. All the signs of a bad liar.

            “Mrs. Hudson, you know me almost better than anyone else and you honestly think that I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Mrs. Hudson sighed and turned away from Sherlock, crossing her arms in front of her.

            “I’m sorry Sherlock, I know you didn’t want to talk to him, but he’s your brother and I thought he should know that he’s got a niece now whether you wanted him to know or not.” The land lady admitted and Sherlock nearly exploded.

            “You _what_? Mrs. Hudson there was a reason I didn’t want my brother involved! He’ll ruin everything and scold me as if we were boys again about how bad this looks to his ‘important clients’ that his brother got his best friend’s sister pregnant and won’t stay with her, even though that’s technically not true anymore…” Sherlock yelled and raised a hand to scratch his head in frustration, the movement making Mrs. Hudson cringe for a split second before correcting herself. Sherlock spotted this and lowered his hand back down and crossed his arms as well, remembering why he had helped her all those years ago by having her husband executed. He sighed and spoke in a much quieter and softer tone.

            “I’m sorry Mrs. Hudson, I didn’t mean to yell like that… it’s just Mycroft can be very irritating sometimes and being the person that usually causes most of his headaches it’s not easy to get along with him or to avoid his scrutiny. You are right, though, he does deserve to know about Faith and the baby… I was just unsure of how to tell him.” Sherlock explained and leaned back against the sink, looking down at the floor. Mrs. Hudson turned around and placed a hand on Sherlock’s arm.

            “I understand dear, Mycroft can be rather stuck up at times, but he _is_ still your brother. You two should try and get along better in the future, eh?” She gave a small smile then which Sherlock returned, patting her hand on his arm.

            “I won’t make any promises, but I’ll think about it.” Sherlock said and stood straight, coming back to the present almost. “So, when am I expecting his Majesty?” He asked with his typical sarcasm, Mrs. Hudson just smiled and headed off to the sitting room.

            “Within the hour dear.” She called from the other room. Sherlock nearly fell over.

            “ _What_? So soon? Oh that unbelievable stubborn…” Sherlock mumbled angrily other insults to himself as he headed off to the bathroom most likely to get cleaned up for the impending doom that was his older brother. Mrs. Hudson simply relaxed in John’s chair and closed her eyes.

            “This is going to be fun.” She said to herself and grinned, knowing the contradiction the future events to take place would have with her statement.

* * *

 


	8. Family Matters

* * *

            John looked up towards the hallway as he heard the bathroom door slam closed as well as muffled curse words and other choice phrases coming from it. There soon came loud crashes and more muffled choice words that even John found himself cringing at. This could only mean one thing.

            “I guess Mrs. Hudson called Mycroft after all.” He said to no one in particular. Faith looked up from the baby in her arms and glanced towards the bedroom door.

            “Oh? He doesn’t like his brother then?” Faith asked curious. John nearly laughed.

            “No not really, although I’d like to think they share some sort of mutual compassion for each other, but it’s not like they ever show it.” John paused for a moment, then frowned. “Makes you wonder how exactly they were brought up; how their parents were and everything. Especially their father.”

            “Indeed it does, but they seemed to turn out alright—well, as alright as can be expected knowing Sherlock.” Faith remarked and smiled. John had to admit she had a point, Sherlock could have always decided to use his “powers” for evil rather than for good. He concluded that they should count themselves lucky for the path that he _did_ choose, even if it did lead John down roads he sometimes wished he hadn’t traveled.

            The sudden sound of the bathroom door being thrown open and slamming against the wall brought John out of his thoughts and straight towards Sherlock. He had cleaned himself up as best he could and changed his shirt to his crisp, clean white one. _Quite a shame really_ , John thought, _I always liked that purple shirt_. Sherlock headed to the kitchen most likely to prepare tea for his brother’s arrival, which was unnecessary considering Mycroft was waiting for him in the sitting room as he approached the kitchen. Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks, straightened himself, and calmly walked over to his leather chair and carefully sat down; keeping an even face the whole time. John knew the fireworks were about to start and didn’t want to be on the sidelines when they did.

            “I better go out there and be referee in case things go bad.” John said to Faith and stood for the door. “If you need anything I’m right down the hall, don’t be afraid to call out just because they’re being ‘difficult’ with each other.”

            “I won’t, I think I’ll try to see if I can squeeze a nap in while you lot are out there squabbling.” Faith decided and made herself, and the baby, more comfortable in the bed.

            “Good luck with that.” John said with a small smile and left the room, closing the door but leaving it cracked open a bit behind him. He calmly made his way to the kitchen as if he was making a cuppa and nothing was out of the ordinary while managing to catch a glimpse of the Holmes brothers to his left. Sherlock was in his chair casually inspecting his violin and Mycroft, sitting opposite from his little brother in John’s chair, was cross-legged and had his umbrella placed across his lap with his hands placed neatly there too. Both looked as if they could care less about the current situation and John found it slightly troubling if anything. Mycroft was the first one to break the silence.

            “Are you really going to make me go first when _you’re_ the one who clearly needs to explain himself?” Mycroft spoke sharply and looked towards his brother. Sherlock didn’t bother to look over and continued to examine his violin, completely ignoring Mycroft it seemed. The elder Holmes sighed irritably and continued on in his scolding. “Sherlock do you have any idea how this looks to the rest of my clients and trusted advisors and friends? Of course, they already know you can be rather eccentric and… _difficult_ sometimes, but this— _this_ is a whole new level even for you. I mean, she’s your friend’s _sister_ for God’s sake and she’s having—”

            “Had.” Sherlock immediately interrupted Mycroft while still refraining from looking at him.

            “Fine, _had_ your child. And you what? Plan on just letting her go on her merry way while you manage to completely forget about her? I’m sorry, but that’s not going to cut it. You can’t just—”

            “I have no intentions of leaving Faith to tend to the child on her own, and even if I didn’t want anything to do with her or the baby Faith would still have John to rely on so don’t you _dare_ sit there and suggest and assume things you know nothing about _brother_. The action doesn’t suite you.” Sherlock abruptly retorted, causing Mycroft to be silent for a moment and gather himself. John, meanwhile, was in the kitchen pouring himself some tea and trying like made not to burst out laughing at Sherlock’s wittiness towards his brother. Mycroft could be rather stiff sometimes and it was refreshing to see him get flustered by Sherlock’s sudden comebacks every once and a while.

            “Very funny Sherlock, but I’m being serious. You had better fix this quick, because believe me, you don’t want me to have to if you don’t.” Mycroft responded and stood, his umbrella in hand. Sherlock finally looked at his brother and put his violin down, standing up to nearly match his brother’s height.

            “That had better not be a threat, Mycroft. Because if it is, you have more than me to worry about; you have her ex-army brother as well.” Sherlock spoke with an edge to his voice and nodded towards the soldier behind Mycroft. Mycroft turned and saw John standing dangerously close to him with his arms crossed, a steely look on his face.

            “I think you’d better leave Mycroft. _Now_.” John demanded and Mycroft headed towards the door, but stopped to say one last thing.

            “I meant no disrespect, John, but something has to be done. Figure it out.” And with that Mycroft was gone down the staircase and soon outside in his chauffeur-driven car. Mrs. Hudson appeared suddenly from the stairwell and entered the flat.

            “Well, that went well didn’t it?” She chimed and looked at the two of them carefully.

            “That’s one way to put it.” John remarked and went back to the kitchen for his tea. Sherlock moved his violin and abruptly sat down, putting his forehead in his palms. Mrs. Hudson saw this as her opportunity and went by Sherlock’s side, placing a time-weathered hand on his shoulder; he didn’t look up.

            “Sherlock dear, Mycroft doesn’t usually get to you like this. Are you alright? And don’t think saying ‘Yes, go away’ will work on me.” Mrs. Hudson asked softly, slightly concerned.

            “Yes Mrs. Hudson, perfectly alright.” Sherlock answered and switched positions so his fingers were interlaced and his chin was resting on top of them. Of course, Mrs. Hudson didn’t buy it for a second.

            “You don’t have to lie to me Sherlock, I’m not your mother or your babysitter so I’m not gonna lecture you on right from wrong. What I will do, however, is tell John a thing or two about you which you’d rather not have him know _unless_ you tell me what’s really up.” Mrs. Hudson bargained and crossed her arms with a sly grin. Sherlock abruptly looked at her and narrowed his eyes, calculating his options.

            “You wouldn’t…”

            “Oh I think I would, and you know it.” Her grin grew wider and she held back a laugh. Sherlock stood so he’d be closer to Mrs. Hudson where John wouldn’t be able to over-hear in the kitchen.

            “It’s not Mycroft per say, it’s the whole situation to be honest and he just put the ‘cherry on the top’, if you will. You see, I have these uh…”

            “Feelings, dear?” Mrs. Hudson fills in with a slightly confused look on her face.

            “Yes, _feelings_ and I’ve never quite felt them like this before. It’s… _confusing_ , but I think I know what to do about them.” Sherlock concludes and glances towards where John is in the kitchen currently fiddling with the kettle and muttering what was sure to be abuse at it. He turned back to Mrs. Hudson and placed both hands gently on the sides of her upper arms; a young but soft look appeared on his face that the land lady hadn’t seen in quite a long time. “Mrs. Hudson, uh… I’d like your honest opinion on something.”

            “Of course dear, what’s got you so tangled up?” Mrs. Hudson asks even more intrigued now. Sherlock bits his lip and looks away for a second before returning his attention.

            “Do you—do you think I’d be… _right_ for Faith? I mean there are many other men out there that could very well be more suitable for her than I and—” Mrs. Hudson placed a finger over his lips, quickly silencing him.

            “Sherlock, if you’re asking me if I think you’d be a good father to that baby and a good husband to Faith, then my answer is yes. Of course it’ll take some hard work at first, but I think it’s very well possible that, in time, everything will work out the way it should.” Mrs. Hudson said and moved her hand to gently cup the side of his face. “I’ve seen you go through hell more than once and come back in one piece, I think you can handle fatherhood. It will be hard, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She smiled then and moved a lock of Sherlock’s hair off of his forehead; much like a mother would. He took that hand and kissed the back of it in a caring manner.

            “What would I do without you dear land lady?” Sherlock said softly and gave a small smile. Mrs. Hudson chuckled and patted him on the shoulder.

            “Let’s hope that day never comes, love.” With that she took her leave of the apartment and headed back downstairs to her flat.

            “So,” John’s voice suddenly cut in. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?” He asked and took a sip of his tea. Sherlock merely shrugged and headed down the hall to his room.

            “Not really.” He said as he entered his bedroom to a now awake Faith and baby. Closing the door behind him, Sherlock took a seat on his bed where Faith was watching him curiously.

* * *

 


	9. The Final Question

* * *

            “Come to see your daughter have you?” She asked playfully and gave a soft smile.

            “Sort of…” He trailed off, but Faith held the baby out to him regardless. Ever so carefully, Sherlock took the fidgety child in his arms and held her close. She blinked at him and brought a hand to her mouth, still not sure of its purpose yet. He observed her dark brown hair and baby-blue eyes which seemed to have a sort of gleam to them that he hadn’t noticed before as well as the color being darker than normal baby-blue eyes would be. Her skin was also a pallor color similar to her father, but had an olive-tone to it which suited her mother. Sherlock brought a hand to her forehead and gently brushed off a piece of hair with his finger, as he did so the baby girl reached out and grabbed his pointer finger with a strong grip which surprised Sherlock. He wiggled it around and she stared in amazement at his fast movements and Sherlock couldn’t help but chuckle. Faith smiled and laughed as well.

            “I think that means she likes you.”

            “Does it? I mean technically it’s just a natural reflex that new born babies elicit because of—” Sherlock glanced over at Faith and noticed she had one eyebrow cocked and her arms where crossed. “Uh… or perhaps it just means she likes me.” He admitted, knowing he wasn’t going to win this battle. She just smiled and shook her head.

            “So, was there something you wanted to talk to me about? Like, perhaps, what you plan on doing now that the baby’s here?” Faith asked and Sherlock looked away. “Look, I know that you said you didn’t want anything to do with her or I and I understand it would be a huge change for you… but you should know that I’m still going to have contact with my brother who just happens to be your flat mate so completely ignoring me is going to be hard even for you.”

            “I have no intentions of leaving either of you.”

            “Exactly, which is why I’m trying to convince you that—wait… what did you say?” Faith asked suddenly confused. Sherlock simply smirked.

            “I said, I have no intentions of leaving you; _either_ of you. You were right, you and John both, I can’t just run away from this; from her. She’s my daughter and you her mother, it would be wrong of me to just abandon you. I guess it just took me this long to figure it out.” Sherlock explained and Faith found herself feeling… _relieved_ out of all things.

            “Are you being serious right now? This isn’t some kind of game to test me or anything?” Faith asked skeptically.

            “No, this isn’t a game and I’m not lying… there was something else I wanted to ask you as well.” Sherlock stood and placed the baby in her cradle that Mrs. Hudson had brought up from her flat a few hours ago before the baby arrived. It was old and most likely from a child from the land lady’s past, but Sherlock didn’t care to delve much deeper into it; he trusted her and that was that.

            “And… what would that be?” Faith asked hesitantly and spoke softer than she anticipated. Sherlock turned around and came to her side of the bed, then sat down and placed his hand on hers. Faith’s heart was practically pounding in her chest and she was afraid that Sherlock might be able to hear, although highly unlikely.

            “A rather simple question that most women from the age of 7 dream about hearing. Faith Watson, I have caused you so much turmoil and trouble over this past year that I can’t possibly apologize for, but I can start by giving you this.” Sherlock takes a small box out of his inside jacket pocket and holds it in his hand. Faith stares at it wide eyed and with her mouth slightly open in aw, almost unable to tear her eyes away from it.

            “Sherlock…” She practically breathes the name and finally manages to look at him. “Are you—are you doing what I think you’re doing?” A smile begins to pull at the corners of her mouth.

            “In a way, yes.” Sherlock opens the box, revealing a ring much unlike the conventional engagement ring. The band was black and contained ten smaller stones on either side of a larger one set in the middle; all of them the color of the ripest red grape. The larger stone was set in a bracket with the shape of a fleur de lis on either side as well. Faith had no idea where he could’ve gotten such a unique ring or the diamonds placed within it, but she didn’t necessarily care; it was the most beautiful thing she had ever laid her eyes on. “With this ring, Faith, I hope that you can accept me with all my flaws and broken pieces in order to help me fix them during the remainder of my life. Of course, I don’t expect you to say that you will or that you even feel the same way about me as I do about you, but I hope that this can at least be a start on that path.” Sherlock finishes and takes the ring out of the box and places it in the palm of her hand; closing her fingers around it.

            “Sherlock Holmes, you brilliant idiot.” Faith starts and receives a puzzled look from the detective. “If this is your complex way of asking me if I’ll marry you, then the answer’s _yes of course_ I will. If I had wanted nothing to do with you or didn’t care about you at all, then do you really think I would’ve come back here and tried to convince you to be a part of my life and the baby’s? No, I wouldn’t have.” Faith places a hand on Sherlock’s cheek and strokes it gently with her thumb. “I _love_ you, Sherlock. No matter how broken or messed up you may be, know that I always will. So I want you to take this ring, and put it where it _really_ belongs.” Faith says and opens her hand revealing the ring. Sherlock grins and takes the ring from her palm and slides it gently onto her ring-finger on her left hand.

            “Perfect.” They say in unison and smile as they realize it. Faith giggles and holds up her hand, splaying her fingers.

            “It really is. Now, dear daddy, what ever are we going to name our daughter?” She asks playfully and draws a finger down his chest. He takes that hand and kisses the back of it.

            “Well, I was thinking about that… her skin has the shade of nature in it, as does yours, so something to that liking.”

            “You want to name her after a tree?” Faith asks incredulously, intertwining their fingers. Sherlock chuckles and traces circles on her hand with his thumb.

            “Not exactly… when I was growing up we had the largest willow tree in our backyard that I had ever seen and it never seemed to be affected by time; as if it was above the mere idea of it. And well, I was thinking that, perhaps, we could name her that.”

            “Willow? You want to name her Willow?” Faith asks and Sherlock nods. He looks away for a moment, afraid Faith might tell him that it’s a stupid idea, but she places her hand under his chin and turns his head back around to face her. “I love it.” Sherlock smiles and slides a hand around her waist and pulls her close as she does the same around the back of his neck. Their forehead’s touch and for a moment they both linger above each other’s lips.

            “Faith and Willow Holmes, I rather like the sound of that.” Sherlock says barely above a whisper and grins, then pulls her into a kiss.

            It was one that neither of them would ever forget.

* * *

 


End file.
